A Shell of Venom
by 64thestarkidwholived
Summary: Why is Jeanine so horrible? She began a sweet young Erudite child, until... Rated T because it's Divergent. This isn't really inappropriate, though, at all.
1. Age 4, EPEP

Age 4

"Jeanine, are you ready for school?" Mother's loud voice rings through the house. I stiffen and listen closely for noise in the bedroom beside mine. My baby brother, Darren, may only be two months old, but he can shriek like a banshee. _Still asleep, _I realize in the silence, and I allow myself to relax.

See, we Erudites are special. While all the other four-year-olds in other Factions are busy with...whatever they do(I hope to learn what they do when I go to school!), we are in school to get ahead. That's what makes us so eager to learn, I think. Learning is like our own heartbeats, since we start doing so at the youthful, impressionable age of four.

"Yes, I'm ready! I'll be downstairs in a bit!" I am, indeed, ready. My new dark blue shirt and pants, glasses perched on my nose, a backpack full of books, pencils, and any other supplies we were required to supply. I have a thirsty mind, too, and a wide-awake, laser-focus Erudite mind. Mother tells me I am gifted, destined for great things. But I am missing one thing - guts. I'm terrified.

"Good morning," Mother hands me cereal in a small bowl and a banana. "Eat quickly and we'll go. I have to get to work."

Mother works in developing medicine, and so does Father. They both spend all day figuring out how to solve problems that other people suffer, which I like. I think I want to be just like them - working in medicine, raising children just like Darren and me, and anything else they do that is so great. I even look like them, thanks to genetics - Mother's big grey eyes, Father's wavy blond locks, Mother's small nose, Father's wide smile.

I sit down at the table and eat my breakfast. When the last morsel of cereal is gone from the bowl, I stand up, take Mother's hand, and we set off toward the Erudite Pre-Educational Preparation Facility.

After thirty minutes of walking and silently panicking, I am sitting in one chair in the EPEPF among a line of others, all occupied by my fellow four-year-olds, facing a large stage. From above, this must look like a thin blur of what must be fifty shades of blue, consisting of the eighty or so children who will all be my classmates until I am sixteen, when some will leave to the other four factions. I have no friends here, but everyone else seems to have companions with whom they are holding animated conversations.

"Hem, hem," A rather stout woman dressed in a light blue pantsuit stands behind a podium, making false coughing noises into a microphone and adjusting her glasses. The excitement and chattering dies down, to my relief.

"Welcome, Erudites! I love to see your smiling faces grinning up at me today! My name is Bernadette Charles, and I am the head of the EPEPF," The woman flashes a horrible grin at us. "Now, you will be split into four classes of twenty, children," She slightly lifts a packet that must have been resting on the podium beforehand, waiting for Bernadette.

"These are the names for Class A. These children will be going with Elona Rosen," She beckons a slender, blonde woman onstage from behind the curtain. "Pay attention, now.

"Oliver Aberoff, Larynn Akin, Yonah Blumensen..." She reads off of the list. I allow myself to drift off to my thoughts, as I'm sure my ears will surely perk up at my name, Jeanine Matthews.

_Will anyone like me? Will I like school? _I worry, shifting nervously in my seat. I glance around the room. _Her, with the red hair, she looks nice, or the boy over there with big ears, maybe he'll be my friend..._

I have almost dozed off during Class C's list, when I suddenly hear, "Jeanine Matthews, Theo Nissan, Albert Nissan..."

_Class C. _"Class C, children just named, follow Nicholas Brolden," Bernadette points to a tall, dark-haired man who must have walked onstage while I zoned out. Maybe my focus isn't as good as I thought...

In a single-file line, Nicholas leads Class C through the doors to the assembly room, through a hallway lined with posters about geometric formulas and not giving up, and brings us to a large room full of computers, books, and everything an Erudite girl dreams of seeing in such quantity. I grin, as do a few other excited Erudites. "This," Nicholas sweeps an arm in a semi-circle, gesturing to the classroom. "Is the Class C Headquarters. Now, learning's always best with a companion, so choose a buddy with whom you can explore the wonders of the contents of this room for today!"

I glance around. I was afraid this would happen. Everyone clings to their friend, who had been walking next to them the whole time. I stand alone, a single-celled organism.

"Who doesn't have a partner?" Nicholas calls. I raise my hand timidly, glancing around the room. To my relief, another small, slightly sticky hand pops up.

"Okay, two people, great. What are your names?" Nicholas asks.

"Jeanine Matthews," I introduce myself.

"Andrew Prior," The other says.

"Andrew, Jeanine, you'll be partners," Nicholas walks from his position at the front of the blue sea of Erudites to take me hand and march me over to a short, light-haired boy with a big smile that looks like an eternal crescent on his face.

"Hi, I'm Andrew!" He takes my hand and we skip over to the last free computer. We reach the computer, which is not nearly as high-tech as what Mother told me the grown-ups use, and sit down. He releases my hand, which had grown rather sweaty in his. Mere moments later than us, two boys, one red-haired, the other with a curly mop of black hair on his head, reach the computer. They look at the floor sadly and turn away. I have a hand on the computer mouse when Andrew pipes up.

"Come on, you guys can play first! We'll play with it another time, right, Jeanine?" He grasps my hand gently again, and pulls me over to the bookshelves. Once we are behind the shelf, away from Nicholas and the two boys, I push Andrew down. He tears up, but clearly is trying not to cry. "Why'd you do that? You hurt me," He says.

"You little..." I try to think of a mean word to call him, but I know none. I'm only four, for goodness sakes! "We got that computer fair and _square!"_

"I...I'm sorry..." He murmurs, the grin long gone from his bright, freckled face. I see a tear, magnified by the lens of his glasses, slip out of his eye. He failed to hide his emotions, which brings back mine. I wrap my arm around this boy, who I barely even know.

"No, I'm sorry, Andrew Prior. I'm not usually like this. I don't know what came over me," I say, expecting him to pull away in disgust and tell Nicholas on me for hurting him.

"Well," He smiles again, surprising me. "I believe in second chances. Will you be my friend?"

I grin and give him a big hug. "Of course, Andrew Prior!" I don't know why I keep calling him by his full name, but I don't mind. Erudite Pre-Educational Preparation just got a hundred times better.


	2. Age 5, How To Act in a Library

**PM me if you can figure out why I used ****There's A Wocket in my Pocket****, and I'll give you an imaginary pat on the head!**

Age 5

"Andy!" I yell, pivoting on the sidewalk to face my best friend of one year, Andrew Prior. We were just racing to the library to read some books, but I stopped about a minute ago upon realizing that Andrew is quietly ambling along far behind me, definitely not participating in our game to compare speed through a test. "Come on, Andy, are you feeling okay?" He has raced with me a few times before, so this worries me.

"I-I'm fine, Jean-Bean, I'm good," he assures me, then he picks up his pace to reduce my waiting for him. "I...just didn't...feel...like...competition today," he pants when he reaches me. Andrew isn't a very athletic person, even for an Erudite, where we value intelligence far above physical abilities.

"Are you sure?" I make one eyebrow go up, and one go down, a skill I've discovered by making funny faces at little Darren, who likes to mimic the expressions.

Andy smiles. "Yeah, I'm sure. Maybe another day, Jean-Bean."

In the library, we are quiet, just as we'd learned is required. We spent April in the EPEP learning how to act in locations such as laboratories and libraries, so I know what to do.

I am very careful to note the rules(Library Rule #1: Be Quiet) all of the times that I dragged Andy with me to find some new books. He isn't very Erudite, I've noticed. I noticed a bit on the first day of EPEP, when he gave up our computer to children who weren't fast enough to beat us to the last one.

EPEP let all of us out for the summer - and, technically, forever, since this Autumn we begin real school - four days ago. Every day since then, Andrew and I have spent every day reading. I'm not as big a fan of reading as I am of computers and chemistry and such, but Andrew is horrible with computers, as I've noticed during EPEP. I decided toward the end of my EPEP year that I would at least spare him the embarrassment of being a complete klutz in the communal Technology Center, in front of intelligent grown-up Erudites.

I power-walk(Library Rule #2: No Running) over to the section labelled Children's Classics, as I automatically do every time I come here. I pull out a story titled There's A Wocket In My Pocket, by a man named Dr. Seuss, and look down at the brightly-colored cover. Even for this less-explored section, I notice, the books by this man, Dr. Seuss, haven't been read very often. Understandable, as the creature on the cover, a "Wocket", does not exist. We Erudites search to uncover the truth, and silly-looking fictional creatures are not the truth.

This book interests me(Library Rule #3: Read and Have Fun!). I can't help but wonder if there is a way to genetically make a Wocket. I grin, imagining Wockets in place of squirrels, scurrying about along sidewalks and through trees. "Andrew," I call quietly, careful to make my voice merely a loud whisper.

Andrew is sitting on an overstuffed purple sofa, hunched over a book that, at the angle at which he holds it, I can see has a green cover. Andrew must really like the book, because he doesn't even glance up.

"Andrew!" I repeat, in a slightly louder whisper-voice. His head whips upward so abruptly that his glasses slingshot off of his nose, over his forehead and the top of his head, and fly to land six feet away on the floor. He looks at me reproachfully, then turns on his heel to retrieve his glasses.

He approaches me, placing his glasses where they belong, on his nose. "What is it, Jean-Bean?"

I thrust my book toward him. "When I grow up, I want to make Wockets!"

He gapes at me, opens his mouth, seems to think better of what he was going to say, and instead smiles gently. "So you're getting that book?"

I nod vigorously, and my friend shows me his book. The Giving Tree, by Shel Silverstein. "Oh, good," I sigh in relief. "You like an unrealistic book, just like me!"

He nods as we make our way to the checkout scanner. "But there is something realistic - love, generosity. The tree gave everything to the little boy. I like that about her - the tree, I mean."

I try to stifle a giggle. My ridiculous best friend... "You can't give_ everything_ up for someone else."

He shrugs, then looks pensive. "The Abnegation do."

I laugh. "Well, yeah, but they're Abnegation."

He pushes open the door and holds it for me, then exits behind me. "I still think we can do little deeds to bring that love to Erudite that the tree had for the boy."

I don't like this conversation very much. Andrew's words just sound like a speech, and speeches are boring. "Maybe another day. Now, we need to find out about this Wocket, and your Abnegation Tree."


	3. Age 11, Besties for the Resties

**Okay, Divergent Fans, Readers, and Writers of the Internet! I have a mission for you! Check out labelma's fanfictions! They're all Divergent, and they're awesome!**

Age 11

"Jeanine!"

I am woken by an abrupt, painful little seven-year-old alarm clock named Darren Matthews. The little rascal leaps onto my stomach, shrieking with a far more human-sounding yell than the former siren-like, two-month-old Little Darren's cries, gone for seven years now.

"Darren!" I cry out, rolling him off of my stomach and onto the floor in a strange gently-rough manner. "What was that for?" Not the kindest approach to my little brother, but, hey, I'm not a morning person or an Amity.

He looks up at me from his current position, dramatically sprawled out on the floor in his blue onesie pajamas, which are freckled with big, bold, round white polka-dots.

"Mother told me before leaving for work that I have to wake you up," Darren explains. For a crazy, reckless little kid, Darren is obedient when it comes to Mother. Then again, so am I; Mother almost seems to emit a pheromone that makes everyone, even strangers on the street, want to either help her or get the heck out of her way. Mother must have gone earlier than usual today to work in her Lab, but she does that often lately, for reasons I've yet to discover.

I laugh, lazily reach my hand down from its position, folding with the other as they rest on my blanket-covered stomach, and tousle his mousy brown, slightly overgrown hair. "You should be getting ready too," I tease. "Unless those PJ's are for school."

A half-hour later, I sit at the table with Darren, both of us cloaked in our winter jackets, shoveling a banana down his throat with one hand, cereal into my mouth with the other(Mother wouldn't approve, but I don't like to waste time). Suddenly, I jump when I hear a knock at the door.

I push the last of Darren's breakfast in, run over to the door, and try to ignore the hardly audible, yet very obnoxious, squeaking of the hinges as I open my home to Andrew and his six-year-old sister, Meredith, as I had so many mornings before. I shiver from the morning's first frigid winter winds, which had entered with the Prior siblings, whooshing over my still-sleepy face.

"Hey, Jean-Bean!" Andrew laughs. He began that mere months after we shared that awkward, apologizing hug, and rarely refrains from using the nickname.

"Hey, Cotton-Andy!" I reply, grinning. I came up with that one when we were nine. He's not Cotton-Andy nearly as much as I am Jean-Bean, but he doesn't seem to mind.

"H-Hi, Darren," Meredith whispers, as though put up to fulfilling some humiliating dare. Darren doesn't even look up, suddenly interested in the monotonous grey kitchen tiles.

I roll my eyes at Andy. Every morning, it seems, we go through the same motions: Andrew and I greet each other like the best friends we are, and Meredith and Darren act like they're strangers for half of the mile-long walk, then suddenly all gender-induced cold-shoulder is absolutely murdered by excited chatter. They need to just accept their friendship.

Once on the sidewalk, Andy and I fall back, behind our two siblings, so we can have our own conversation and keep an eye on the troublemakers.

"Hey, Andy? How's your English project going? You know, writing a story?" I ask. English isn't exactly my strongest suit - that would definitely be science.

"Ah, it's going well," Andrew says. "Just...my grammar. Not too great."

I shrug. "I can look it over, if you want. But my grammar is a bit faulty, too."

He stops walking and holds up his hand, the universal silent request for a high-five. I giggle, "Grammar fail buddies!" and oblige, slapping my hand onto his outstretched hand.

At the impact of my hand on his, I feel a vibration running through my veins, an adrenaline surge that is gone after a moment of its presence. Definitely not the feeling one usually gets from the transferred energy from one hand to the next, but something different, something...more. I pull away awkwardly, shocked by the strange sensation.

He looks down at the dirty cement, making me wonder if he felt the odd vibe as well. Did we high-five wrong? I'm not sure how I could, but, you never know. I replay the action on an endless loop in my head, scrutinizing every second, straining the memory through a mental sieve until only the mistake, whatever it is, lies alone. I find nothing incorrect about the high-five, so I decide to let it go, and not waste time over such things.

Andrew is no longer gazing at his feet, but is smirking, watching something up ahead. I follow his gaze, stopping on the darling image, about ten feet away, of Meredith shivering, obviously not sated by the thin blue coat, and Darren, sweet little Darren, who had been acting so indifferently toward Meredith mere minutes ago, engulfing her in a warm hug. Darren gives great hugs, which I know from nights when Mother stays at work later than normal, and I have to tuck Darren into bed.

"They're so cute," I mutter to Andy. He nods, smiling.  
We are nearly knocked over by a pair of boys, around ten years old, running past us, backpacks bouncing back and forth as they slap the boys' shoulders.

Andrew and I hear a tiny clattering noise, like something hitting the ground. I look down to see a pencil rolling beside my feet, probably from one of the backpacks. Andy follows my gaze, notices the pencil, and sprints toward the boys, who hadn't gotten too far.

"Wait! Wait!" Andy screams. "Is this someone's pencil?"

I moan and race after my hyper-generous, hyper-kind friend. "Is this one of yours?" He asks when he catches up to the students.

The taller one, a blonde, freckled child, finally answers, hearing him at last over the slapping of his feet on sidewalk. "Oh, yeah, thank you for that!" He snatches the standard yellow pencil and continues running.

"Cotton-Andy," I nudge his shoulder, puzzled. "There are so many other yellow pencils around. He can get a new one."

"But this one, the one I returned, is his. And I just prolonged a tree's death," He explains, a bit proud of himself.

"Andrew," I ask, worried. "Are you going to...transfer, when you turn sixteen? And...abandon me here?"

"Jean-Bean!" He smiles. "I'm not thinking about that until I'm older. And, who knows? Maybe, if I transferred, we'd transfer to the same place!" He laughs. We both know we're polar opposites. "Seriously, Jeanine, I don't know what I'll be like when I'm older."

"Okay, Andy," I agree with him, pulling open the doors to school. "Just promise me that, even if we can't be grown-ups in the same Faction, we'll still be friends forever, even if we don't always see each other."

He nods. "Forever."


	4. Age 14, Fifty Shades of Lunch

**Sorry about taking so long to update - my wi-fi's been a total spaz lately! I am not going to abandon any of my Fanfics - I promised myself this, when I first started. Anyway, this one was one I've been excited to write since before I even started writing this Fic, so, Enjoy! By the way, labelma and I are collaborating on a Divergent Fanfiction called "What If". Check it out, please - It'd mean a lot to me!**

Age 14

Being in high school now - a freshman - we are now entitled to more privileges. Among these are: the restricted section of the library, various different computer programs, after-school opportunities at several labs and research centers, and not being confined in the cafeteria during lunchtime at school.

"Jean-Bean! Carmella! Let's eat outside!" Andrew calls to us from outside the door of his fifth period class, Health. Carmella and I approach him from our fifth period class, Math, three classrooms down the hall, to the left.

Math class is how Andy and I became friends with Carmella. I saw her sobbing and sitting alone during class one day earlier this year, not surrounded by the jerks she used to befriend, the "Popular Clique". At lunch, the period after, I found Andrew - him being the more social of our pair - and we approached her. She told us that her friends had ditched her, and our duo became a trio.

"Andy!" Carmella laughs, running a carefree hand through her dark brown hair. Though she joined our "Clique", Carmella still shows a few traits more like her former friends than Andy and me. For example, she cares about her hair and makeup, not a large priority among many Erudite women and girls - and especially not Andrew. "It's winter! It's too cold outside for lunch!"

He groans. "Carmella, come on! You'll...you'll get red cheeks, like blush!" Carmella doesn't look impressed, only amused.

I decide to help, jokingly. "He'll be your best friend," I offer, grinning.

"Oh, fine, you got me there!" She giggles. We shove our books into our lockers and walk to the end of the hall, to the entrance to the school, where the different wings of the school meet in the center of the building.

There are eight wings: Dauntless, Erudite, Abnegation, Candor, Amity, Gym, Cafeteria, and Assembly. We never go into the halls of other factions, as they are absolutely unnecessary for us to explore. We do, however, all go to the Cafeteria and, unfortunately, Gym and Assembly.

We go down the hall to the Cafeteria, endure the long line of students waiting for lunch, and are rewarded at the end with chocolate milk, a salad, consisting of shredded cheese, sunflower seeds, cucumber, lettuce, and sliced hard-boiled eggs, and a small Styrofoam takeout container of tuna salad on the side. I'm not sure which faction learns to make food for the cafeteria in school, but it's amazing.

The three of us exit through a large glass door, out into a frigid, Abnegation grey courtyard with a quad of picnic tables. Normally, the courtyard is beautiful, with a few wildflowers growing in various areas around the border, but winter's turned the brightness to dullness. Carmella, Andrew and I look around at the empty area, then sit down together at a table.

"Did you guys finish that book for English class?" Andrew asks. "Lord of the Rings? Was it good? I haven't finished yet."

I grin. "Yeah! I loved that book!" I'm proud of myself, since English is normally a weaker point for me.

Carmella makes a face. "Jeanine, it's so boring!"

This confuses me. It's such a great book! This'll take some fast thinking. "Carmella," I weave a thought word by word as it leaves my mouth. "There's a movie adaptation of it, which I, uh, found when I...researched the book at the library - and Frodo is played by a good-looking guy!" I lie, trying to bait her. I don't even know if there's a movie of the book, and I certainly didn't research the book. "I'll try to find the movie, and we'll watch it together, if you both read the book."

She takes a deep breath and glares at Andy. Andy would jump off a cliff wearing Carmella's cosmetics haphazardly smeared across his face if it meant making people happy. "I'll read it tonight, Carmella," He promises.

"Good," She nods approvingly, then glances down at her empty chocolate milk carton. "Guys, I'm going to get some more chocolate milk. See you in a bit!" She flashes a lip gloss lined smile, turns around, and prances into the building.

Andrew, in the absence of light, bubbly Carmella, looks at me seriously. "Jean-Bean," He whispers. "I just realized something."

I look at him curiously. "What is it?"

"I...I don't want to worry you," His eyes widen. "But this is really one of our last moments here, just eating lunch on a school day with your friends, being kids."

I search my brain for something comforting. "We'll, uhm, still have the rest of this year, and then we have the next school year."

He looks down at his half-eaten tuna. "Next year, we'll all probably be worrying about the Factions. And, who knows? Maybe we'll all be acting like brainwashed mini-adults!" He seems more and more terrified with every word. By the end of his short monologue, he's shrill and shivering.

I silently panic. I'm not the one who's good with people; Carmella is good with groups, and Andrew is a whiz at individuals. I'm, well, awesome at Science, that's all. How do I comfort my best friend, Cotton-Andy?

Without thinking, I slide across the bench, nearer to him, and murmur in his ear, "It's okay, Andy. It'll be okay." I place my hand on his, something I do very rarely, and I feel a shock that I tend to get when I make contact with him. It's a strange feeling, not electric, indescribable. I gasp, and pull away, even though I like the sensation. He stops having his meltdown, to look at me, confused.

Awkwardly, I check my digital watch: 12:43. We have two minutes to get to the hallway before the first bell rings for Seventh period, in which our small trio has English class together.

"Andy, let's go," I mutter uncomfortably. He stands, and we race through the long halls, though neither of us are very fast. Through this journey, I try to decipher the message of the feeling I get from physical contact with Andrew. I try to match the feeling with that which I have seen in books:

_Feeling of anger: hot, almost painful, uncomfortable. No, the way I feel around Andy isn't anger. And there's no reason to be angry with such a nice kid._

_Feeling of sadness: harder to breathe, a sort of heat and pressure behind eyes. No, he's never really done anything to make me sad._

_****__Feeling of love: pleasant, but simultaneously dizzying. Often hard to cope with, to keep under control, to fight such powerful feeling, as it seems in books._ This seems ... nearly spot-on accurate.

I nearly trip over my feet as the first bell rings, just as I reach my locker._ After all this time, without knowing,_ I think with a stupid grin. I want to shout out this new discovery out loud, or at least say it, but that could end in a disastrous way._ I've been in love with Andy, Cotton-Andy ... I have been in love with my best friend, Andrew Prior. I am in love with Andrew Prior._

**I hope that was as fun to read as it was to write! Thanks!**


	5. Age 15, Coffee Shop

**Sorry about not updating! I was having Wi-Fi issues and everything, and I was literally freaking out because I couldn't finish the chapter. Don't worry - after fifteen comes...sixteen! And you Divergent readers know what that means...**

Age 15

I wake to the sound of my alarm clock. Of course, I don't normally get up at eleven fifty nine every night; I just wanted to watch the clock switch to twelve o'clock. Forty seconds until I am fifteen. I keep gazing at the constantly changing seconds column of the digital clock. Thirty nine, thirty eight...

Andrew, Carmella and I will be meeting up at the local coffee shop for my birthday, where there will be a poetry reading. Such things aren't very popular in Erudite, since Science is the more preferred profession, so the coffee shop is usually crowded with Amity and a few Erudite loners, maybe the occasional Candor or Dauntless. Because Andrew doesn't like science, and Carmella loves poetry, I figured I could give poetry in a warm, dimly lit room smelling of cappuccinos a chance. I used to like little rhyming children's books, after all, long ago.

Five, four, three, two...

Knock, knock, knock. "Jeanine?" A small adolescent voice whispers.

"Darren?" I ask as he enters my room. "Shouldn't you be asleep?"

He puffs out his chest like he's some sort of rebel. "I should? I should? Jeanine, with me it's an all-night party," The eleven-year-old giggles, dancing around. I sit up cross-legged on my bed, laughing, and he hugs me. "Happy birthday, Jeanine."

I hug the kid back. "Thanks, Little One," I tousle Darren's hair.

"Don't call me that, Big One," He frowns at me. I can't help laughing at that kid, even when I know I've ticked him off, so he glares defiantly at me to try to shut me up. I tickle Darren under his chin, then fall back onto my pillow as he squirms away, screeching gleefully.

"Darren?" Mother calls drowsily from her room.

I look over at my brother. "You should probably get to sleep."

"Fine," He moans, and stomps away.

Finally, blocked off from the world in my midnight solitude, I close my eyes to sleep, for the first time, as a fifteen-year-old.

I wake up at a time much later in the day, fully rested and excited for a day with Andy - and Carmella also, of course. I put on a navy blue skirt, the only one I own - most of my wardrobe consists of pants - and a bright blue shirt, then I slip on my glasses. Excited, I practically jump down the stairs.

"Happy birthday, Jeanine," Mother stands up from the kitchen table to hug me.

I hug her back. "Thanks, Mom. I'm going to get coffee with Carmella and Andrew, okay?" I scarf down a bowl of cereal - Mother tells me all the time not to eat so fast, but time's a horrible thing to waste - and rush out the door. I stroll down the block a bit until I reach Andrew's house.

He opens the door and engulfs me in a huge bear hug. I wrap my arms around him as well as I can - he's gotten a lot taller in the past year, and he's built up in what I'm not sure is muscle, fat, or just bone - and try not to smile too big.

"Happy birthday, Jean-Bean," He laughs.

"Thanks, Cotton-Andy," I reply. Just like when we were kids. He sure does look great today. He hasn't cut his hair in a month or so, therefore it's a bit messy, but in a cute way. His blue eyes pierce me like icicles, but spreading warmth.

We continue our route together, turning left, then right, then two blocks straight, and one more house, and we've reached our destination. I knock on the mahogany door, and an unshaven man, hopefully her father, answers, glaring at me. Is this the wrong house? Crimson-faced, I ask the stranger if Carmella lives in the house, but he just stares at Andrew and me.

Finally, Carmella pushes past the man. "Daddy," She says firmly. "Go back to your work." She turns to us. "Sorry about him. He's a bit crazy, but he's a real genius when it comes to physics. Anyway, happy birthday, Jeanine! Let's get going!" She grabs our hands and, pushing between us, leads us down the sidewalk. I peer past her shoulders to grin at Andy, who smiles back.

We pass several blocks of houses, then we reach a less-traveled, smaller part of town. I've been here two or three times before, so I'm not terrified, but the dirty streets make me a bit uneasy. Carmella, however, doesn't mind anything, since she used to go drink coffee all the time with her old friends, before she became my friend.

When she stops, I'm confused for a moment. We're looking at what seems to be hardly a shack. I nudge her shoulder and raise an eyebrow, but she just pulls open the door and leads us in. Immediately, the smell of coffee wraps around me, but in a warmer way than the more popular coffee shops among the Erudite. The building looks far smaller on the outside than it really is on the inside, crowded by little clusters of people adding up to roughly fifteen coffee drinkers, mostly Candor, sitting on stools or chairs.

"How do you like your coffee?" Carmella asks. "My treat - I'm payin', birthday girl."

I have to think for a moment. Coffee isn't really my thing. "Uh...frappuccino," I guess.

"And what about you, Andrew?"

He shrugs, grinning. "I'll get a frappuccino, too."

Andrew and I claim a table and three chairs, and the two of us sit and wait for Carmella. Andrew sighs, and looks around the room.

"Jean-Bean?" Andy asks.

"Cotton-Andy?" I reply, looking him straight in the eye with a little giggle. Is he going to say he's also in love with me? He could be, he seems nervous enough...

He shifts in his seat. "Well, we'll be sixteen soon, and I was curious about what you're considering for, you know, the...factions?"

Oh. I take a deep breath, thinking about what I'll say. The truth is, I've been avoiding thoughts of the whole idea of growing up. I wish I could stay a kid all my life, innocent and carefree. I could lose one - or two - of my friends, and I could lose myself as well.

"Cotton-Andy, I don't know," For a moment, I consider directing the question back at him, but I don't think I want to know the answer. Not yet.

Because of my choice to kill the conversation, we sit in silence for a few moments before Carmella approaches with a cappuccino and two frappucinos. I smile and begin to say "Hi" but Carmella shushes me and points at the front of the room, where a Candor girl calmly waits for quiet.

The room slowly grows more quiet as the Candor girl is noticed by everyone else. She combs her fingers through her dark brown hair a bit, then pulls out a crumpled piece of paper from the pocket of her pants, and holds the paper out in front of her slightly.

It's not much, I know.

I know that, to someone,

I'm just an animal,

An obstacle,

No matter what I do.

Why is my best,

Always the worst?

Will my best,

Maybe,

Someday,

Be sufficient?

Can I be good enough

For anything?

Her words tumble fluidly from her mouth, eyes closing at random lines. I can tell that this isn't something her sister told her to write, or something she found in the library. This is really from the heart, soul, and mind of this brunette standing in front of me.

At first, I feel sorry for this stranger, who doesn't seem to know her place or purpose. Suddenly I wonder: aren't we all uncertain of such things, and this girl is just among the few who have realized? I'm still avoiding discussing with myself where my place - the Faction I'm destined to live in - is, and nobody can know their purpose, can they?

****_One year left, Jeanine, I think. One more year._


	6. Age 16, Part 1: Pre-Test Nerves

**I'm so, so, so SO sorry I took so long! I've had a lot going on with holidays and everything(I can't use electronics on most holidays). I need to warn you, also, that this summer I'll be unable to update for about a month, due to camp. Again, I'm sorry!**

Age 16

I glance over at the clock to see 3:29 A.M. blinking at me in bright red lettering. I have been laying in bed for four hours, and I haven't gotten a moment of sleep.

In five and a half hours, I will be in the crowded Waiting room, anticipating my turn to take the Aptitude Test. I'm not quite sure what happens in that test, but it's definitely something horrible. I've heard about fatalities in those tests - kids who go into that Testing room, and don't come out alive. Studies have shown a 49% chance of death per year from those tests. Nobody ever told me why, though. Do they kill off the ones who don't fit into just one Faction? What if I don't fit into one specific Faction? What if I don't fit into any, and they just cart me off to Factionless? What if Andrew dies? Andrew is not only my best friend - he has been for over a decade now - but the one I love. If something happened to him, my heart wouldn't be able to go on, and neither would I.

Go to sleep, Jean-Bean, I chuckle to myself, thinking in Andrew's voice.

I can't, Cotton-Andy! A flirty variation of my voice, something that only could exist in thought, giggles.

Why not? My head's version of Andrew asks. It's late, and you have a big day up ahead.

My Jeanine-voice, drunk with exhaustion in the dead of night, replies, Because I don't want you to go away.

Jeanine, Brain-Andy laughs. I'm just one half of an argument in your head. Tomorrow, you'll see real me!

Imaginary Andrew and Flirty Jeanine disappear, leaving Just Jeanine - me. Just me in the dark, when most people should be asleep. I wonder if someone is just like me, laying in their bed, the only life around them, worried about their Aptitude Test tomorrow - today, rather.

"Go to bed, Jeanine," I whisper to the almost infinite sheet of blackness shrouding my presence from the light, my eyes closing as I speak. "And don't die when you wake up."

I wake up to the sound of Mother's voice, something I don't get to hear very often. "Jeannie," she whispers, using her pet name for me. "Today's the day. It's seven-thirty in the morning now."

I bolt upright. "Today," I mumble sleepily, dazed. "Today. It's today. Mother! Do you know what the test is? I need tips for it!"

The corners of her eyes crinkle behind her glasses as she smiles. "I can't tell you what it is. There's a law, sweetie, I'm sorry. And I can't give tips." She gives me a sly grin. "You'll know what to do by yourself."

I groan, frustrated. "If you're going to talk in code, I'm just going to get dressed now."

She purses her lips. "Jeannie, I have to go to work now. I just wanted to see you quickly, and tell you that I have faith in you. I love you!"

You always have to go to work, I think bitterly as she leaves my bedroom, Always. I slide open the drawers to my dresser and select my favorite pants and shirt, the ones that feel like pajamas, but look like casual school clothes. I decide that, if today is the day I die, I want to be wearing something I like. When I have already eaten a sufficient breakfast, I wait for Andrew to knock on my door, a part of the route we have had for years, now with Carmella's house added as a final stop.

As I sit by the door, a kitchen chair pulled up next to the doorway, Darren lumbers in drowsily, rubbing his eyes. I stand up and approach the twelve-year-old with outstretched arms and engulf him in as enormous a bear hug as a teenaged girl of slender build can give.

"Mmph - Jeanine, off!" He protests. "Nobody can know I hugged my sister!"

I laugh. "Get over your preteen pride, kid. This girl has her Choosing Ceremony soon, so you'd best get your hugs in now!" I mentioned the event lightly, but I am more terrified than I let on to the boy.

He shrugs, glancing over at the closed curtains to the windows. "Fine, hug away."

I smile and continue the unfinished hug, just as a knock on the door echoes through the kitchen and Andrew's voice calls, "Jean-Bean! You ready?"

Darren smirks. "Go walk with your boyfriend, Jean-Bean."

I wish, I think, I wish he were. However, wanting to hide this secret from my brother, I simply roll my eyes in disgust and walk out of the door. Andrew gives me a sad smile. "Are you ready, Jean-Bean?"

"For the test?" I ask. "No way. What about you?"

He shakes his head. "If it's some test like the ones in class, I...I don't know what I'll do."

"You'll do fine, Cotton-Andy." Without thinking, I place a hand gently on his arm. After a moment, I notice the contact, and my hand gets the bubbly feeling I always have when I high-five him, or when I playfully shove him. I look up at him, take a deep breath, and continue, "Besides, the test probably would have to cater to the abilities of every Faction. Therefore, intelligence wouldn't be the sole factor in the Aptitude T-"

He steps a few feet in front of me, so he faces me and, before I can even react, he leans forward and kisses me. My whole body tingles with happiness for the moment before he pulls away. I shakily force myself to remember to breathe, making him grin shyly. "I had no clue what you were saying."

A million questions run in circles around my head. Do you like me - the way I do, I mean? Did that even mean anything? Can this reassure me about your choice in Factions?

Instead, I open my mouth to speak, but nothing tumbles out - not even random, lovesick babbling. Silently, I look down at the dirty sidewalk, and slowly continue walking toward Carmella's house.

He tentatively places a hand on my shoulder. "Hey, you're not mad, right?"

I look into his eyes, trying to telepathically transmit every thought I want to say into his head. No. No, because I've hoped every day that you would. Because I love everything about you. I love how you look a bit like an owl in your glasses, I love the way you call me Jean-Bean, and I love the way that you, well, are you. The way you are Cotton Andy. The way you are Andrew Prior.

Instead, I just smile stupidly and shake my head. He breathes a sigh of relief. "Good, I thought you might be angry or something. I don't like when people don't like me." He looks a bit uncomfortable. "Let's...do you want to keep walking? We've stopped."

I finally find my voice in my throat. "Sure, let's g-go," I stammer, trying to push every thought of that kiss out of my head, for the time being. I look around, then laugh. "Wait, Cotton-Andy, we're at Carmella's house!" I must not have noticed, while my brain had still been concentrated on Andrew.

Andrew knocks on the door, sparing me the awkward moments of Carmella's father's presence at the door. However, Carmella perkily answers the door, rather than either of her parents. "Hey!" She grins at him. "Let's go!"

On the sidewalk again, our trio is on our way to the first step toward deciding our fate. Carmella seems barely shaken, but Andrew and I share uneasy glances every few moments, reluctantly advancing toward the school, in which the tests are held.

"Hey, guys?" Carmella asks. "Should we have, like a late-night type of thing tonight? I'd say sleepover but, well, Andrew kind of ruins that. So, thoughts? I mean, we might all get split up tomorrow."

I look over at her. "We need time to be with our families. It's not that I wouldn't miss you, if we were split up. It's just that, well, it's our family. I can't just leave Darren or my parents, not without saying goodbye."

Carmella looks hurt, then understanding shows on her face. "Okay, Jeanine. It's alright. Andrew?"

He nods. "I need the night to think, and say goodbye to my parents and Meredith. Sorry, Carmella."

She shrugs as we step onto the school premises. "I get it. I think I should be with my family tonight, also."

Andrew pulls open the door, holding it open until Carmella and I have entered the building before he slips through the doorway. We walk down a short hallway into a large room, crowded with kids my age, clad in colors of their Factions. There are several long tables, but they are being neglected, most kids opting for the spacious floor.

The red and yellow Amity, both boys and girls, sit together in a big circle. Judging by the facts that they're all looking emotional, a few have their arms around one another, and, well, they're Amity, I think they're having some mushy friendship-love thing in their corner.

The Dauntless sit in four little clusters on the dirty linoleum, talking and laughing together in their groups. The group nearest to the door, consisting of seven girls and one boy, occupies themselves by drawing patterns and pictures on the boy's arms and back with black markers while he lies on his stomach on the ground, his black shirt wadded beneath his head like a pillow.

The Candor sit in pairs or trios around the room, chattering while they draw pictures on sheets of lined notebook pages. One girl, dressed in a black and white striped tank top and black pants, approaches Andrew and, with a sweet smile, informs him that he looks like an owl in his Erudite glasses. Andrew gives a shaky smile, and the girl returns to her friends, who are debating about something.

The other Erudites, the ones who came before I did, sit or lay scattered throughout the room. A few are with their friends, but most thought to bring books along. Two are playing what appears to be a very intense game of chess, so much that even a few Candor have been drawn in by the arguments between the opponents.

Carmella and I take a step toward the chess game, intrigued, but I feel a tug at my arm as Andrew takes a step toward a table where the Abnegation quietly sit. He looks at me, blushing furiously. "I...uh..." He trails off, and begins walking with us in the direction of the chess game.

We watch the chess game for a few minutes when, suddenly, an Abnegation volunteer enters. He announces the next two from each Faction who must take the test, including, "From Erudite, Andrew Prior and Ellen Chenille."

Aptitude Test fatalities. I stand up and hug Andrew, not caring how crazy I look. "Good luck, Cotton-Andy."

He smiles. "Good luck, Jean-Bean. I'll see you soon."

Shakily, I sit back down beside Carmella. She smiles at me. "He'll be okay, Jeanine. He'll be okay."

Tears well up rapidly in my eyes. "But...But what if he isn't? What if he...dies? And what if he leaves Erudite, if he survives the test?"

She puts an arm around me as the first tear rolls down my cheek. "We all have to grow up someday," She whispers. "But Andrew's strong. He'll come back."

We sit in anxious silence until the doors reopen, revealing Andrew, looking pale, yet completely alive. I stumble over to him, careful not to step on anyone, and hug him. There's hope now, hope that he won't be gone forever from my life.

"Worried, Jean-Bean?" Andrew asks.

"Of course, Cotton-Andy," I giggle into his shoulder.

"...From Dauntless: Katie Impez and Natalie Sybil. From Erudite: Carmella Yavan and Jeanine Matthews," The volunteer finishes announcing.

****Carmella stands. "Well, here we go!" The three of us exchange hugs, and we walk toward the exit. My hands grow clammy, and my heart thuds like a mouse's rapid heartbeat. My blood rushes in my ears as I walk through the Doors of Death and Decisions.


	7. Age 16, Part 2: The Test

**Hey, guys! This will be my last chapter before I go to camp! Anyway, don't worry, there will be more parts to this age! Well...enjoy!**

Age 16, Part 2

Beyond the door, there is a hallway of doors. I place my hand on the fifth door on the right, and cast a glance at Carmella, who is standing in the doorway of the room across from me. "Good luck," She mouths as the door creaks shut.

_Alone,_ I think, my thoughts practically echoing across the silent corridor. _I stand alone._ I push open the door nervously, anticipating what will happen once that door slams shut.

When I look around the room, adorned with green wall paint and green tiles, I see a young, red-haired Candor woman with big eyes standing in the middle of the room, holding a tablet in one hand and a little remote control in the other. She smiles, shuffling a tiny step forward in her spotlessly clean black ballet flats. "Hello, my name is Emma. And yours is Jeanine. I know your name is Jeanine, because it says so, on this!" She holds up the tablet in her right hand.

"Nice to meet you," I grin at the peculiar woman in black and white. I step closer and hold out my hand, since this just feels like an appropriate time for a handshake-greeting.

To my surprise, she jerks back. "Uh, sorry, I just don't like germs," She explains, picking a bit of lint from her skirt. "Now, before the test, put on this bracelet." Emma holds out a thick, green rubber bracelet. I approach her, take the bracelet, and slip it onto my wrist, contrasting with my navy shirt. "Well, let's get on with the test, eh?"

I try to nod, but I'm too scared. "Emma, does it...hurt?"

Her lips press together into a fine line. "Well...yes." Her eyes widen, and she cries out, "Potentially! Potentially! There's just a chance you'll be maimed - I mean, well, uh...okay! First phase of the test!"

Emma rushes over to a wall, and presses a button on her remote. A chain link gate lowers from the ceiling, closing her into a section consisting of roughly a third of the room, separating us.

My eyes follow the descent of the gate. "Why...why are you over there?" I ask nervously.

Her eyebrows knit together, unsure of what to say - a rarity in Candor. "It's to separate me from you. For protection."

"Protection from what?" I shriek. Emma sighs, and presses another button.

Two of the green tiles on the ground slide sideways, giving way to two pillars, which rise from below the ground, until they are the height of my hip. On one pillar sits a medium-sized block of cheddar cheese. On the other, a knife glints in the dim light.

"Choose," Emma says suddenly. I lift a puzzled eyebrow at Emma, but she turns silent, staring intently at me as she awaits my next move. I pick up the knife without thinking. _I'm not sure what this part of the test is, but I'm choosing the knife, if I have to choose something._

Once the knife leaves the small pedestal, the cheese, as well as the knife's empty pillar, shoot back under the tiles, which slide back over and cover them as though the cheese and knife never existed.

"Emma," I turn to her, puzzled. "What-"

She places a finger over her lips, signaling for me to be quiet. Her eyes are closed, as though she is trying to comfort herself. Still closing her eyes, Emma presses another button, and a panel of the wall opposite the door glides open to reveal a passage. Once the panel is safely wedged behind the adjacent panel, I peer in, not daring to step closer. I see nothing, just complete blackness.

Suddenly, a dog, wild and furious, with teeth like steak knives, leaps from the darkness. I jump back, terrified. _This must be what is so dangerous about the Aptitude Tests._ The dog stalks up to Emma, snarling at her. Emma screeches, huddling against the wall, hugging her knees.

The dog rears up onto his hind legs, scratching at the fence. After what feels like a million years, the beast gives up, realizing that Emma is not within his reach. He lifts his nose a bit to sniff around for his prey. _Me_.

The creature, discovering a different scent in the air, turns his furry body around to face me. For that moment, I glance at my knife, reconsidering my choice. _I'm not athletic; I can't fight a dog with a knife._

The dog breaks into a savage sprint toward me. Once he is close enough, I lunge forward, moving next to him, and wrap my arms around the animal in a hug. I pet his great, fluffy back until his tail begins to wag with happiness. I sigh with relief, patting his big head.

Once I have him fully calm, happy, and non-lethal, I hear a shriek behind me. "Doggy! Come here, boy!"

My head whips around to see a little girl, clad in a green jumper, skipping into the room from the passage in the wall. The dog stiffens beneath my grip, squirming away from me to get a clear shot at the child.

The girl, finally realizing how dangerous the dog is, screams in terror, but she is frozen to the spot with fear. The dog advances on her, baring his teeth. Emma makes a strangled noise from her area on the wall as he accelerates in his speed toward the child.

Move, Jeanine! You have a knife! I think, but my feet are frozen with a desire to live. I can do nothing but watch as the first tooth sinks into the girl's shoulder. She shrieks in pain, blood staining her jumper as it drips onto the tile. His teeth gnaw on her arms, puncturing her skin, making blood pour from her like a sickening rainstorm. He continues biting, until he finally gets a shot at her neck, and the girl crumples to the floor.

"I'm sorry," I whisper to the mangled young corpse as the dog drags her back into the darkness. "I am so sorry." The girl leaves my sight, but the trail of blood remains - as does the memory, and the thought that I just killed someone. I just took a premature life. Why was she stuck here, anyway? She wasn't wearing a Faction color - do they sacrifice Factionless children for us? For the tests?

Emma, looking almost psychotic, closes the passage with the press of a button, and opens the gate with another. "Don't freak out, Em, it's just...blood! No, don't look, deep breaths," She mutters to herself. Finally, she remembers my presence. "Anyway, that's the messy part of the Test," She taps something on her tablet. "Now, I'm going to ask some questions. Do you still have the bracelet?"

"Yeah," I answer, skeptical. "Why?"

"No reason," Emma says, turning to her tablet. "Now, first question: Who is your best friend?"

"Easy!" I exclaim. "Carmella and Andrew!"

"I said best_ friend_, not _friends_," Emma says, tapping out something on the tablet.

"Ah," I think for a moment. Andrew is a great friend, definitely the closer one of my two best friends, but is he still a best friend if I wish he were...more? "Carmella," I say. _Andrew can't be degraded to only a best friend. He is more, even if it's not "Boyfriend-Girlfriend" status._

Emma types something else. "Okay, now, which Faction is your favorite? Your answer is not going to affect the outcome."

"Erudite!" I exclaim.

"And your least favorite?"

"Abnegation," I blurt out. I feel embarrassed for a moment, until I remember that Emma is Candor, where brutal honesty is important.

"Why?" She smiles.

"Because..."_ Because I fear losing Andrew to them._ "Because they're annoyingly obsequious," I lie, not wanting to talk about Andrew.

"Big words," Emma nods approvingly. "Now, we're almost done! Are you in love with anyone?"

_Yes._ "No."

"Do you play sports?"

"No."

"Last one! With which family member are you closest?"

"My brother, Darren," I reply, thinking of how both my parents are always at work.

"Well, this means we're done testing!" Emma clicks a few buttons on her tablet, and looks up at me. "Your aptitude test results are...Erudite!"

I beam at her. "That's what I hoped for. Thank you!" I hop out the door.

When I enter the room full of kids, I scan the room for Andrew. I spot him alone, against the wall, just gazing at his hands. _He's just lonely,_ I think with a shrug, and flop down next to Andrew. I glance around, but I don't see Carmella. _She must be still testing_, I think. "Hey, Cotton-Andy!" I nudge his arm. Andrew doesn't answer me. He just stares at his hands.

"Are you mad at me?" I say, worried. What did I do?

"It's..." He buries his face in his hands. "It's Carmella."

"What is it?" I ask, a feeling of dread growing within my soul.

"She d-didn't..." He looks at me, and takes my hand. "She didn't survive."


	8. Age 16, Part 3: The Ceremony

**Oh my goodness, I am so sorry it took so long to upload! It's been a long, complicated web of reasons I haven't been uploading, but I'm so glad to finally upload another chapter! Anyway, I'm so, so, so sorry, and I hope for all of my complicated technological problems to be fixed soon(computer problems are the latest stage of my complicated web of reasons, and it's still a slight issue), and I can update more frequently! By the way, if you remember where else in this story we saw the name of the Erudite leader in this chapter, PM or review what they were, and I'll give you a shout-out in the next chapter! Well..enjoy!**

Age 16, Part 3

"Hi, Jeanine," Mother smiles at me as I walk through the door. Any other day, I'd be so happy to see my mother - who is usually too busy at work until I'm asleep - waiting for me, but I feel too weighed down to be happy. My best friend just died in that horribly barbaric Aptitude Test, and now I have a few hours before my fate is permanently altered. I know I'm staying in Erudite - where Carmella, surely, was going to be as well - but things are definitely going to be different without Andrew, should I be correct in my suspicions about his leaning toward Abnegation, and Carmella.

Without saying anything, I walk up the stairs to my bedroom and flop onto my bed. How could they do this to Carmella? I think bitterly. Someday, I'll create a safe Aptitude Test. For Carmella.

"Jeanine!" Darren runs into my room, looking worried. "I heard about Carmella. You okay?"

I open my mouth to talk, but no sound comes out, so I just hug him. Please, Darren, survive the Test when you're my age. Be safe.

"I know, I know," Darren whispers. I bury my face into his messy dark hair and sob, crying for everything I've held back. He pulls away and looks into my eyes. "You know what you need to do tomorrow, right? For Carmella? For me?"

Stay in Erudite, I think. "Yeah. For you and Carmella." And for me. But not for…Andrew and me, together. I take a deep breath. "Darren, I think I just want to be alone for a bit. I'll see you tomorrow, though," I kiss the top of his head, fluffy like a little kitten, and watch him close the door to my bedroom as he leaves.

For Darren and Carmella, I think, my thoughts taking up my world, restricted around the walls of my bedroom. Darren may be safe here from the Test, but he is in danger still from society. As long as that Test is organized this way, I can lose my brother for no reason whatsoever, other than the primitive ideas of the Faction Test Developers in Erudite.

"Jeanine?" My door cracks open to reveal a ray of light, contrasting painfully with the darkness, and my mother's concerned face. "Can I come in?"

Not bothering to wait for an answer, Mother barges in and sits on my bed. "I'm so sorry about Carmella. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Nope," I reply quickly. Only I can do something. For the future Carmellas.

Mother raises an eyebrow. "I am your mother, you know. You can tell me anything."

"I know, but…" I hesitate. Mother is always out at work. I can't tell her everything. But I can't tell her she's out of the house too much, like a little child missing Mommy.

"Well," She frowns. "Anyway, get some sleep for the big day."

She leaves, and I try to fall asleep. I toss and turn, my brain stirring around haunting thoughts of Carmella, my Choosing Ceremony, and the fact that I will lose my friend - no, more than a friend. He's, well, Andrew - in a matter of hours.

I must have worried myself to sleep, because my alarm clock goes off at nine o'clock, and I open my eyes lazily, reluctant to let the day seize me and cut me into tiny pieces. But, today, everything seizes me. Life, adulthood and Erudite. Yet, at the same time, so much is letting me go. My childhood, my family - we hardly see them after the Choosing Ceremony - and Andy. He hasn't told me that he's leaving, but anyone can tell by the way he never takes the last peach at lunch, the way he read The Giving Tree all the time as a kid. He is soon to be an Abnegation Transfer, and I am soon to be an Erudite born Initiate.

Finally, I peel off the covers, drag myself out of bed, and put on my nicest outfit - a navy pencil skirt with a baby blue sweater, my typical not-going-into-a-lab-today ensemble for vacation, but this is no vacation

I shuffle into the kitchen for my final meal at home. Mom and Dad are making pancakes and chopping fruit, since work and school are always cancelled on the day of the Choosing Ceremony.

"Looks...good," I murmur sleepily, eying the sliced strawberries on a plate. When Dad bends down to pick up a strawberry he dropped on the floor, I snatch one small, red berry and pop it into my mouth, feeling the sweetness run down my throat.

Mom checks her watch, alarmed. "Jeanine, it's almost time to go! We need to be there at ten!" She finishes cooking the pancakes, hands two to each of us - me, my dad, Darren, and her - and hustles us into the car. When Mom turns the car on and starts to drive, Dad gives Darren and me the plate of bananas, strawberries, grapes, and blackberries, allowing us to chow down and fill our tired, hungry, nervous bellies.

After twenty-some minutes, we arrive at the Choosing Ceremony. The sixteen-year-olds all stand together in complete silence until Bernadette Charles, the Erudite leader, instructs us to sit, in reverse alphabetical order, in black chairs on the stage, behind five basins - one for every Faction. I sit between Karli Massey of Candor and Cameron Naman, a good-looking Dauntless boy with shaggy black hair, dyed with one small, white streak on the side of his head.

"Zenforth, Arielle," Bernadette announces. An Amity girl strides up to the woman, who hands her a knife. A bit hesitant now, Arielle slits her palm, letting her blood drip down her fingertips and drip into the Dauntless bowl. The Dauntless cheer, and Arielle smiles a beautiful, probably overused grin. I can tell she's trying to ignore the murmurs of disapproval in the Amity.

"Zanes, Ari," Bernadette calls, summoning forth an Abnegation boy, who stays in his home Faction. I search Adrian's face, looking for clues to his personality. I hope he and Andrew are friends, when Andy switches to Abnegation. I hope Andy is happy without me, because my life will be tough without him.

Bernadette continues up through the names, from "Zanes, Abby", presumably Adrian Zanes' sister, also staying in Abnegation, to "Prowsfeld, Marie", who switched from Candor to Amity. All too soon, I suddenly hear Bernadette call out, "Prior, Andrew."

He takes a deep breath - audible even from my seat, about eight chairs away - as he stands up, taking the knife in his hands. He immediately makes his way over to the Abnegation basin, then hesitates, the blade resting on his palm, eyes closed in concentration. For a moment, hope surges through my veins. Could Andrew, my Cotton-Andy, after all these years, have decided, at the last second, to stay with me, in Erudite?

The smile is still growing on my lips when I see the blade slide over his hand, the blood dropping and sizzling in the Abnegation basin. For a moment, I can not register what has happened. But then I finally realize: I just watched my love, and best friend, taken away from me forever. My throat feels like an avocado pit has been lodged into my esophagus, and I try not to cry as I listen to the excitement buzzing in the Abnegation section.

As the ceremony goes on, I nearly do burst into tears between "Nolon, Vera" and "Nichowitz, Kathy". I know that, right between the two, I should have been able to see "Nolan, Carmella" joining me in Erudite, but that is only a "what if" now.

In the midst of my silent lamenting, I almost don't hear Bernadette call my name, "Matthews, Jeanine".

This is it. Starting today, I am going to be in Erudite without my best friends. I know, though, that any other Faction would never suit me well. I take a deep breath, exhaling all of my fears, worries, concerns, and overall thoughts that have pestered me, penetrating deep into my soul, for so long. In one short, easy motion, I glide the blade over my skin, and allow a few drops to ooze from the cut and drop onto the Erudite coals.

I look over at Andrew, while the Erudite cheer their deafening roar. Andrew's eyes are dead-set on mine, beckoning me over. I run to Andrew, tears burning in the corner of my eyes like the coals in the basins. Faction before blood, but what is before love?

"I'm going to miss you so much," he murmurs, engulfing me in a hug.

"I'll miss you too, Cotton Andy," I whisper in his ear, the tears beginning to slide down my cheeks. He looks at me, and hugs me tighter.

"Hey, Jean-Bean, it's okay, it'll be fine," Andrew tries to assure me. "This isn't the last time. We will try to see each other as much as we can, okay?"

"I..." My throat gives a strange gasping noise, and I retry speaking. "I don't...want to be...without you."

"I don't want to be away from you, either," Andy tells me, making my stomach feel light and floaty. "Jeanine, I lo-"

Suddenly, he is pulled away by several other Abnegations, running toward Jacob Kay, the Abnegation leader, who is gathering the new members in. He looks at me sadly, and I wave at him one more time before finally giving way to the sobs that were building within me. The other Erudites look surprised as they watch me approach the group of new and old Erudite faces, trying to keep my face down so nobody can see the steady flow of tears.


End file.
